


Bad Ritual

by RavenGrey



Series: Creep On Creepin' On [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Bottom Sam, M/M, Painplay, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They come together like tectonic plates, all bared teeth and bruising hands and crushing force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by Timber Timbre's "Bad Ritual"
> 
> All of their music is pretty freakin' fantastic and I'll be doing a whole series of fics inspired by their songs, so, yeah.
> 
> Any mistakes are my bad, hope you like it c:

 

         They come together like tectonic plates, all bared teeth and bruising hands and crushing force.

         The cheap motel clock is broken; red numbers blaring 3:14 as they tumble into the room with razor sharp grins and bright eyes. They tear at each other’s clothes, drag nails over bruised and battered skin and suck new bruises in between biting kisses.

 Sam sucks in a harsh, sharp breath when Dean’s blunt nails skitter over the puncture wounds on his shoulder.

            “That hurt Sammy?” Dean chuckles, light and warm, and it sends shivers of fear-ridden pleasure down his spine. Dean’s green, green eyes hold an edge of danger, still glow with traces of the hunt, and Sam knows how this night is going to end.

            His stomach thrills, viscous pleasure hot in his belly, and he gives as good as he gets while Dean rips his shirt up over his head and start on Sam’s. Their lips move together, hot and messy, and Dean growls lowly when he can’t get Sam’s shirt off.

            Sam laughs, quietly mocking, and splays his long fingers over the vivid bruise on Dean’s hip. He squeezes, laughs again when Dean grunts in pain, and licks the hurt sounds from his mouth.

 “Did that?”

            Dean bites Sam’s lip, flicks his tongue over the dribble of blood and pulls a knife from fuck knows where. Sam tenses and Dean grins wickedly as he slits Sam’s shirt up the front. He nicks Sam’s stomach and a thin line of blood winds a lazy trail down.

            “Ass-hole, I liked that shirt.”

            Dean grins, running his thumb up and down the shallow slice. His thumb comes away stained red and he pops it into his mouth. “It was ruined anyway, bitch.”

            “It’s the principal of the thing, jerk.” Sam sniffs indignantly, licking a bead of blood from his lips. Dean’s lips curve up, dangerous, and he shoves the shirt off of Sam’s broad shoulders. The stiff fabric sticks to the line of holes punched into Sam’s shoulder and start to bleed fresh when Dean tugs his shirt off.

            “Principal my ass.” Dean snorts, thumb sliding slick over Sam’s skin. Sam sways into the touch, shoulder throbbing, and goes down easy when Dean pushes him back onto the bed. The hinges squeal and the bedframe creaks under Sam’s weight. Dean slaps Sam’s ass and he gets the point.

            Sam rolls over onto his belly, rough comforter scratching against his stomach, and rests his chin on his hands while Dean runs calloused fingers over the jagged line of teeth marks. Dean strokes the holes, almost tenderly and Sam waits for the pain he knows is coming.

            Dean’s moves away, finds the bottle of pain pills they have for emergency situations and throws one back. He gets another out for Sam, nabs the salt/holy water why he’s up and moves back to Sammy, who’s sprawled out on the bed

           Dean straddles Sam’s ass, rocks his hips and lays greedy hands on Sam’s blood-stained skin. His breath catches sharp in his throat when Dean’s fingers press deep into the serrated muscle, massaging out the stiffness and getting the blood flowing good again. There’s a few teeth imbedded in Sam’s flesh and Dean picks them out with his knife and flicks them onto the floor.

            Sam’s back is beautifully muscled, shoulders tense with pain and Dean can’ help but marvel at how glorious Sam is like this. The deep bite on Sam’s shoulder has fury boiling in his blood, but damn if red don’t look good on him. 

            “You gonna feel me up or fix my shoulder?” Sam huffs, dick a hard line in his jeans. He’s pressed flat to the bed, pain a low, grating throb that mixes with the all-encompassing arousal and pushes him to a new height. 

            “Don’t see why I can’t do both.” Dean says, husky, as blood wells up and runs over the tanned curve of Sam’s shoulder.

            Dean’s tongue drags rough over the wounds and when Sammy gasps, he pops the pill into his mouth. Sam goes to spit it out, eyes full of hazel fire even though Dean can’t see them, and Dean slaps a warm palm over his mouth, pinches his nose and waits for him to swallow.

            Sam does, pulls his lips back from his teeth and bites Dean’s hand quick and hard. Blood rushes into his mouth and Dean pulls his hand away with a huffed laugh. Sam swallows the bitter-sweet blood in his mouth, feels his cock throb and his breath stutter.

            His body thrills at the threat of violence that settles over Dean like a cloak and he licks the trace of blood from his lips.

            Dean strokes his back, digs his fingers hard into the muscle and Sam waits, teeth on edge, body humming as Dean teases him. He fights the urge to bolt as Dean slowly uncaps the holy water and dribbles some onto the shoulder the hell hound had made a chew-toy out of.

            Sam gasps, loud and hot in the tense quiet, as the holy water burns him and purifies the wound. Dean’s cock pulses out a bead of pre-come and he grinds against Sam’s ass as he massages the holy water into the wound.

           The water runs pink and Sam goes limp under the slow press of his fingers, heated groans falling from his lips. He goes rigid when Dean runs the salt water over the bite, but Dean’s hand wrapped tight around his aching length makes up for the jagged pain of salt in a wound.

            Dean laughs, rough and chilling, and palms Sam through the denim of his jeans. Sam’s back arches, glistening with red, red blood that still blooms from the wounds. The sheets are stained with pink runoff and neither can bring themselves to care.

            Sam lays there, placid, while Dean bites out curses and scrambles for the lube standing impertinently on the bedside table. Sam doesn’t lift a finger to help, just balances on that razor-edge between pain and pleasure.

            Dean darts his tongue into one of the divots bitten out of Sam’s skin and flicks the tip of his tongue when he pulls back. Sam’s toes curl and he grips the headboard. Dean slides a hand around Sam’s front and unbuttons his jeans.

            Sam lifts his hips up long enough for Dean to jerk his pants and boxers down past the curve of his ass and then flops back onto the bed, fingers still white-knuckled around the rusted bars of the headboard.

            Dean doesn’t waste any time slicking a finger and sliding it right into Sam’s ass.

            Right up to first knuckle and Sam’s body jolts, cock throbbing as he rocks back onto it, not even feeling the mild burn. It’s nothing compared to the hurt in his shoulder and he wants more.

           Dean knows, ‘course he does, but he teases him. Sliding that one finger deep into Sam and drawing it slowly. He keeps at it until Sam is squirming, dick leaking pre-come on the comforter and then he presses two fingers into Sam and crooks them.

           Sam jerks again, breaths coming harsh and tries to think of anything but Dean’s fingers in his ass. Sam’s just getting used the stretch of two when Dean pushes a third finger in and keeps them there. Just lets Sam’s muscles clench down tight around his fingers and watches him gasp and writhe with hooded eyes.

          Dean can barely get his jeans down fast enough, hard to do with one hand, but he manages and guides the tip of his cock to Sam’s entrance. He eases his fingers out, feels Sam’s muscles try to pull him back and shudders as he lines up and pushes the tip in without any warning.

            The head of his cock slides right into Sammy and he grips his hips hard as he stops to listen the ragged sounds Sam’s making.

            Sam takes him easy as anything and Dean drops his head back and groans at the tight heat that clutches at him. He doesn’t give Sam time to adjust, just pushes in inch after inch until his hips are flush to Sam’s ass.

            Dean stills for a few seconds, let’s Sammy feel how deep he is, before slowly pulling out and plunging back in. Sam takes it. Takes it with only a few heated groans and rocks his hips back onto Dean’s cock, meeting him thrust for thrust as his brother takes him deep and hard.

            With each creak, each hard thrust Dean drives them both closer to mind-shattering bliss that’ll wash away the high of the hunt and leave them sane again.

           They belong like this, pressed so tight together you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. Sam rocks back hard onto Dean with single-minded determination and Dean thrusts into him like he’s trying to break him and Sam comes apart under him.

            Dean hangs on for a few more thrusts and then cums, buried deep. Sam’s muscles spasm around him and all he can do is cling to Sam’s hips and hope he isn’t washed away in the sweet, unforgiving tide.

            When he stops trembling he pulls out slowly and tenderly kisses Sam’s hurt shoulder. Sam smiles, wry, and pulls Dean to him even though his body aches and he’s still raw with aftershocks.

            They lie together, covered in dried blood and cum, and finally settle back into their skin.

            It’s not right, the peace settled deep in their bones where rage and fire had smoldered only minutes before, but it curls lazy and double-edged in each of them.

            It’s wrong, what they do together, but when Sam asks him like that, without words, opens up to him and takes and takes and _takes,_ Dean can’t bring himself to care.

 


End file.
